


Only An Ocean Away

by Osidiano



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Pining, Post-Endless Waltz, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-01
Updated: 2003-02-01
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osidiano/pseuds/Osidiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on his way to present a speech, Quatre pines over the love he never had and so couldn't lose, and realizes his fear of boats. Gundam Wing, 1x4 songfic to Sarah Brightman's song of the same name, sans full lyrics. Prequel to 'Disappear.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only An Ocean Away

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this is really old, and I didn't rewrite or edit it before putting it up here. You get it in all its 'teenage!Sid' glory. You're welcome.

I looked out over the endless waves, trying to guess where you are. You were always moving around, sometimes leaving Earth to go on mission that you could not talk to me about. Then again, you never spoke much, not to me, anyway. I used to hear you talking to Duo, or sometimes Relena. Sitting here, I stop and wonder: was there something about me that you didn’t like? Is that why you distance yourself from me? Out across the waters I can hear someone playing an old song, one that I have never heard before. The music is nice, soft and rolling, almost like the sea itself. There are some violin parts, a piano at times, and certainly, but still. . . oh, where was I? Darn it, silly song. . . made me lose my train of thought. . .

_(I see a shadow every day and night_  
_I walk a hundred streets of neon lights,_  
_only when I’m crying_  
_Can you hear me crying?)_

Aha! Now I remember! I was pining away after you, one of my newer hobbies, it seems. So where are you now, I wonder. On some space colony? Perhaps you’re here on Earth. . . maybe even in Europe, like me. No doubt on business, that’ll never change. That’s why I’m here, too. I need to give a speech on the holding of weapons, because Relena asked me to. I don’t know, this seems strange to me. . . I’m just not used to it, I suppose. Oh well, what’s a boy to do? I can’t very well tell her “no,” after all. That’s not nice, polite, or — politically speaking — a very wise thing to do. The boat rocks gently as a larger swell rolls up under the ship, and I feel myself grip the dark metal railing like a life support. I went through several wars, but right now I’m feeling a little nervous standing out here on this boat. Isn’t that so silly of me? There’s nothing to be afraid of, since there’s nothing out here but water. . . and. . . water. . . and some more water. . . and I think that I’m afraid of boats. . .

Memo to self: Get a plane for the trip back. There is no way I’m doing this again. Slowly, I relax my grip on the rail, my knuckles white from the pressure. And now that that little crisis is over, I think I’ll just go back to thinking of you. . . Yes, that sounds like an _excellent_ idea, one that I grow increasingly fond of as time continues to pass. Oh, but what to pretend to say? What could I possibly pretend to tell you that I haven’t already done a hundred times now? I could tell you again how much I love you, and then I could pretend that you would take the news well. And then I’d pretend that you. . . oh, that you love me, too. That would be nice. . . but I know that this is nothing more than the wishful thinking of a lovesick little boy. I mean, how could you? You feel nothing, except for some kind of need to rush off to fight. Considering that all you “love” lies on the battlefield, I think I’m pretty well screwed.

_(Was there a moment when I felt no pain_  
_I want to feel it in my life again_  
_Let it be over now)_  


Dear me. . . how cynical I seem to have become! Certainly it has been years, and I am disappointed with myself for falling head-over-heels in love with someone who could never feel anything towards me. Other than annoyance, of course. I feel a hand on my shoulder and Rashid whispers in my ear that we have almost arrived. Thank heavens. The ship will be docking soon, bringing this unwanted trip nearer to its end. I have a speech prepared on note cards in my jacket pocket, and I can only hope that it is not too short. Come to think of it, I’m not sure what I put down. . . Oh, I hope I don’t mess up! If I were to, I would never forgive myself, and I’d bet a good deal of money that neither would Relena.

The ship bumps up against the docks gently, but in my over-imaginative state it seems much too violent for comfort. Rashid takes my arm to steady me as I sway, my mind taking the normal rolling of the deck and pitching it forward and to the side in an attempt to make me fall. He leads me away from the rail, speaking softly. I’m not quite sure what he’s saying, the words fly by me before I have a chance to take them in. We’re at the ramp leading down to the docks, and I finally manage to bring my eyes up from the wooden planks of the deck. I’ve just realized how very authentic this ship seems, even though I know it is not. Just as I know that there was never a captain in the brig to steer it; this ship is controlled solely by computers and satellite input. That’s about when I see everyone down there, watching me as I disembark. Relena’s there, as well as Wufei and Trowa. Duo came, too, bringing along his girlfriend, Hilde. They were the only two waving. But I don’t see you until I’m at my last step off the ramp. . .

_(So many times you always wanted more_  
_chasing illusions that you’re longing for_  


Yes, you’re here, at the one place and time where I cannot say anything. My mind has gone blank and, even if it hadn’t, what I want to tell you just wouldn’t sound right with an audience listening. Especially one that had Duo in it. You raise your gaze to meet my own, and our eyes lock. It’s been so long. . . I had almost forgotten the intensity of your cold, slate-blue eyes. They remind me of the sea, something that scares and fascinates and holds a hundred thousand secrets beneath its surface. Some best left alone. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and I stop, standing in front of you. I want to say something, anything to break this silence that you seem to carry around with you like some kind of metaphysical armor. What it protects you from I do not know; I only know that it distances you from everyone and thing else. But I do not care if it is there, because it will not stop me.

You reach out a hand to help me hop down from the small ledge that the ramp has created. My breath catches in my throat as I take it, feeling the smooth texture of your palm. It is then that I realize the poetics here, the proverbial and metaphorical symbolism that always comes to mind when I am near you. I know why I describe your eyes as being like the sea, and it has nothing to do with color. It is because to reach the other side of this incredible expanse of water, you must undertake a journey. A long, hard journey; one that takes an outrageous amount of will power, strength, and determination. It takes the ability to undergo mutiny and treason and lies when you are weak, and to be able to stand up to the constant beatings given out by the merciless element that you try to cross. But what is on that other side that makes this journey worth it? You are. And if I must take a boat out and try to cross the ocean in your eyes to reach the shores of your soul, then I will. For I will always remember that you are

_Only an ocean away. . ._


End file.
